Bonneval made an arrow straight run up the centre of the field, a mesmerizing seventy-five metres gained, interspersed with a swerve and dummy, before passing high and left to Denis Charvet thirty metres from the English line.

Charvet took the high pass, flirting with the touch-line, teased the England defence using the ball like a Matador’s cape before delivering the final pass to Sella to apply the coup de grace.

As Les Bleus ran back to the half way line, the sheer joy etched on their faces in the hot Parisian sunshine, reflected the sheer joy of their artistry, as the crowd rose to their feet, as one, in homage, they were witnessing French rugby as it was meant to be played.

The Basque band beat their drums a little louder as Laporte kicked the conversion.

How we long for just a glimpse of those days in current French international rugby, just one scissors move, a dummy a swerve, a flick of the hips, a swagger or even just a look of unadulterated joy on a players face.

It used to be said that if you played France in Paris with the sun on their backs, then you didn’t have a chance, well lets hope for an extended heatwave this autumn.